Sophie Flakes Out Read online

  But the best was Dr. Peter himself. He was a much smaller man than Sophie’s father, but he seemed to fill up a room with his sparkle. Blue eyes twinkled behind his glasses, and there was always a smile on his face and a zany gel-gleam to his short, curly hair.

  As they selected their mini-sandwiches from the tray, he rubbed his hands together the way he always did when he was excited to get started.

  “Whatcha got for me today?” he said.

  Each one of them got a turn, between bites, to talk about the stuff they’d had to deal with since last Wednesday. Everybody, including Harley and Gill, complained about parents and brothers and sisters and the total lack of privacy in the seventh-grade world.

  When they were all finished whining, and half the sandwiches had been wolfed down, Dr. Peter worked his glasses up by wrinkling his nose, like he always did.

  “I think I have a story for you,” he said. “Swell,” Sophie said.

  “That’s the bee’s knees, Dr. P.,” Fiona said. “The cat’s pajamas,” Darbie put in.

  “Let me guess,” Dr. Peter said, “you’re working on a twenties film.” His eyes did their twinkle-thing. “That’s the elephant’s eyebrows.”

  Sophie saw Maggie jot that down.

  Dr. Peter told them all to settle back in their beanbags and close their eyes. “I’m going to read Matthew 12, verses 1 through 8,” he said. “So get ready to imagine.”

  Sophie never had to do much getting ready. She loved this way of studying the Bible.

  “Jesus has been teaching for awhile now,” Dr. Peter said. “People are starting to believe what he’s telling them, and that doesn’t make the Pharisees happy.”

  I hope we don’t have to imagine we’re one of them, Sophie thought. The Pharisees were the ones who were always trying to make everybody follow a bunch of strict rules and badmouthing Jesus.

  “Pretend in your mind that you are one of the disciples,” Dr. Peter said.

  Sophie grinned to herself. Now you’re talkin’, she thought. Nathan would be pleased that she was using his list.

  “ ‘At that time Jesus went through the grainfields on the Sabbath,’ ” Dr. Peter read. “ ‘His disciples were hungry and began to pick some heads of grain and eat them.’ ”

  Although Sophie would rather have dreamed up a hot order of fries, she tried to imagine herself plucking the top off a stalk of wheat and munching away as she hurried to get up closer to Jesus. She didn’t want to miss a word he said, and her stomach was rumbling so loud she was afraid she would. She couldn’t crunch the grain in her mouth fast enough.

  “ ‘When the Pharisees saw this, they said to him, “Look! Your disciples are doing what is unlawful on the Sabbath.” ’ ” Sophie/disciple scowled as she chewed. Why were those pinch-faced men always coming around messing things up? She glanced anxiously at Jesus. The only time he really got angry was when he was talking to them, and it wasn’t pretty. Besides, the Pharisees always made her feel like she’d done something wrong, even when she hadn’t. She inched closer to Jesus and waited for the explosion.

  “ ‘He answered, “Haven’t you read what David did when he and his companions were hungry? He entered the house of God, and he and his companions ate the consecrated bread—which was not lawful for them to do, but only for the priests.” ’ ”

  “They ate what kind of bread?” Maggie said.

  Sophie sighed. It was hard to stay in Bible-character with facts-only Maggie around.

  “Consecrated,” Dr. Peter said. “Every Sabbath, like our Sunday, the priests had to set twelve fresh loaves of bread on a table in the Holy Place. That bread was set aside as an offering to God.”

  “Okay, go on,” Maggie said.

  Sophie slipped back into disciple mode.

  “Wait,” Fiona said. Sophie groaned silently. “Why did David do that if it wasn’t allowed?”

  “He was running away from Saul, who was trying to kill him,” Dr. Peter said. “He had no food, he was hungry, and he needed strength for the things he’d have to do. So the priests gave him and his friends the consecrated bread.” His eyes twinkled. “Let me read on, and you’ll see what this is about.” Sophie’s disciple was all but tapping his sandaled toe.

  “Jesus goes on to say,” Dr. Peter said, “ ‘ “Or haven’t you read in the Law that on the Sabbath the priests in the temple desecrate the day and yet are innocent?” ’ ”

  Yeah, Sophie/disciple wanted to say to the frowning Pharisees, haven’t you read that?

  Come to think of it, had she even read that? She stuffed another handful of grain into her mouth and crept even closer to Jesus. She hoped he would explain.

  But it was Dr. Peter who was talking now. “Nobody was supposed to do their customary work on the Sabbath,” he was saying, “except the priests. They had to perform the special Sabbath sacrifices, which was their work in the temple. So technically they desecrated the day—disobeyed the commandment about the Sabbath—but they were innocent because that was what they were supposed to do.” Dr. Peter’s voice went back into his Jesus tone. “ ‘ “I tell you that one greater than the temple is here. If you had known what these words mean, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice,’ you would not have condemned the innocent. For the Son of Man is Lord of the Sabbath.” ’ ”

  Sophie/disciple wasn’t sure what all that meant, but her chest swelled proudly. You tell ’em, Jesus, she thought. Put those Pharisees in their place.

  “I don’t get it,” Maggie said.

  Sophie sighed again and abandoned the disciple. Everyone else’s eyes were open too. Dr. Peter’s were twinkly again.

  “As usual, the Pharisees were all about the rules of the Sabbath,” he said. “But they didn’t understand what it really meant to keep the Sabbath day holy. If they had been in the temple when David and his men came in there practically starving, they would have said, ‘Too bad. Come back tomorrow and we’ll feed you.’ ”

  “They could have been dead by then!” Darbie said. “Exactly!”

  Dr. Peter was rubbing his hands together again, as if he had been there. That always made Sophie wish she’d been there too.

  “Jesus was saying that it’s always lawful to do good and save life, no matter what day it is. The Sabbath was a day about God, and doing good is always about God.”

  Sophie closed her eyes again, and she could see her kindeyed Jesus handing out hunks of wheat bread. She could feel a smile wisping across her face.

  “Talk to us, Soph,” Dr. Peter said.

  “I think I get it,” Sophie said. “Jesus was like a priest doing his job, only his job was different.”

  “How so?”

  Sophie chewed on that for a second. “He wasn’t there to bake loaves of bread for God. He was there to love people and feed them.”

  “And he was allowed to do that on the Sabbath because he was like a priest,” Fiona said.

  “Bingo,” Dr. Peter said. “And we all can, because we’re all priests in a way. We’re all ministers for God.”

  “That’s a relief,” Maggie said.

  Dr. Peter grinned. “Why, Maggie?”

  “Because I would get pretty hungry if I couldn’t make a sandwich on a Sunday.”

  “You got any more of those?” Gill said. “This is making me hungry.”

  While Dr. Peter passed the tray around again, Sophie flipped back to the story in her mind.

  I don’t get what that has to do with us and our parents, she thought. But she still liked the feeling she got whenever Jesus stood up to those razor-faced Pharisees and changed the rules on them.

  Sophie wasn’t sure if that was what she was supposed to do with Daddy or not. But it sure sounded good.

  Five

  Daddy had to work late again that night, which meant Sophie had to live through an evening of agony, wondering if he had actually called Miss Imes or Mr. Stires. She had plenty of time to think about how she might stand up to Daddy about a rule that needed to be changed. And that’s all she did think about during
games of Goodsy Malone and Spider-Man, and homework, and scrubbing the pot Lacie burned the tomato soup in. But even she, the daydream queen, had trouble imagining herself toe to toe with Daddy, saying things like, “If you had known what these words mean,” and “I tell you one greater than your rules is here.” The one thing she could picture was being grounded for life.

  When Zeke was finally in bed, Sophie decided to go back to the Bible story to see if she was missing some magic sentence that would transform her father into a reasonable human being. She was sprawled across her bed, reaching for her Bible, when there was a light tap on the door. Mama poked her curly head in.

  “Do you have a minute, Soph?” she said.

  Sophie nodded and patted a spot on the bed beside her. Mama made her way across the room, swaying a little from side to side the way Sophie had seen ducks at the park do.

  Being pregnant made almost everything about Mama different. Her usually elfin face looked more like a chubby cherub’s now, and there were soft little puffs of skin under her eyes that Sophie hadn’t seen there before. Sophie had only been six when Zeke was born, and she didn’t remember a roly-poly mother then.

  Mama grabbed a bedpost and hoisted herself up, sinking onto the pink bedspread with a sigh. She sank back into the pile of purple and pink and pale green pillows so that her ponytail of highlighted brown curls tumbled down the side of her face. People always said how much Sophie and Mama looked alike, but Sophie was sure that was definitely not true now.

  “I don’t know how I’m going to make it all the way to March,” Mama said. “It’s only November, and I already feel like Humpty Dumpty.”

  “You want me to make you a cup of hot chocolate or anything?” Sophie said. “I have some Smarties—I’ll give you all the green ones.”

  Mama shook her head, eyes closed. “No. I just want you. Tell me everything about what’s going on in your life. I feel like I’m missing it.”

  Sophie had the sudden urge to curl up beside Mama and rest her head on her belly so she could feel her baby sister swimming around, and to spin out the stories of the last few days so they would last all night. But Mama was still stretching herself into first one position and then another, so Sophie sat cross-legged in front of her.

  “Want me to rub your feet?” Sophie said.

  “I would love to have you rub my feet,” Mama said.

  With Mama’s puffed-up toes between her kneading hands, Sophie flipped through her memory deck for where to start.

  The Film Club—Mama didn’t know all about the festival yet.

  But Daddy had probably told her about that, and how violent it was, and how he was going to snatch Sophie out of that the way he had with the school movie. Sophie decided not to go there.

  The Flakes. Mama always liked to hear what was going on with the girls.

  But what was going on with them, besides the film, was all their problems with their parents. Just like hers. Another topic to stay away from.

  “I’ve never seen you at a loss for something to tell me,” Mama said. Her eyes looked droopy.

  Sophie felt a pang and grabbed for the next thing that came to her mind. “We’re a little annoyed with Willoughby right now,” she said. That was probably safe.

  “Oh?”

  “She’s way involved in cheerleading, and she’s missing a lot of rehearsals for our new film.”

  “A new film!” Mama said.

  Sophie could almost hear the trap she’d landed in snapping shut.

  Mama sat up a little straighter against the pillow pile. “So what’s it about?”

  “Daddy didn’t tell you?” Sophie said.

  “By the time Daddy gets home I’m already asleep,” Mama said. “You probably talk to him more than I do these days.”

  Unfortunately, Sophie thought.

  “Soph?” Mama had her head cocked to the side. “Something wrong between you and Daddy?”

  Sophie pretended to concentrate on Mama’s instep. This was a place she definitely didn’t want to go. She didn’t even want to drive by.

  “Daddy tells me you girls have been such a help,” Mama said. “But if you have a problem you need to talk about, don’t think we’re not here to help you.” She patted her tummy. “If it’s private, your baby sister won’t tell.”

  For an instant, Sophie considered it. Mama was the one who always got her, the one who could make it better with a touch on the cheek or a batch of double-fudge brownies. The one who really could help.

  But she’d said “We’re here to help you.” Daddy and Mama hardly ever disagreed when it came to something about the kids, at least not that she and Lacie and Zeke knew about. If Daddy thought telling Miss Imes their film project was too violent was “helping,” Mama was sure to go along with it.

  And I don’t need that kind of help, Sophie thought.

  “I’ll go get some lotion to rub on your feet,” she said.

  When she came back from the bathroom, Mama had already drifted off to sleep.

  A lot of things have changed with us, Sophie thought as she watched Mama’s middle lift and sink with her breathing. It was a sad feeling.

  But sad turned to mad the next day at lunch when Sophie and the Flakes arrived in the science room for Film Club. There was Daddy, sitting casually in a student desk, chatting it up with Mr. Stires.

  “What in the world?” Fiona said, and with good reason. Boppa, Fiona’s balding grandfather, was on the other side of Daddy. Next to him was Darbie’s Aunt Emily, nervously clacking her manicured nails. She spoke in low tones to a woman whose face was turning redder with every word. That had to be Nathan’s mother.

  And the tall man with faded blond hair and arm muscles that showed under his sweater had to be Jimmy’s father.

  “What is the deal?” Sophie heard Jimmy mutter beside her.

  Sophie was sure they all would have stood there, gawking in the doorway, as Darbie put it, if Miss Imes hadn’t hurried in behind them and ushered them all to seats. As Fiona sank into the one next to Sophie, she murmured, “Tell your father thanks a lot.”

  “You tell him,” Sophie whispered back. “I don’t think I’m speaking to him.”

  Miss Imes had the parents introduce themselves, and when they got to Aunt Emily, she said she was representing Senora LaQuita, Maggie’s mom, too. Willoughby looked at them all sympathetically. It occurred to Sophie that Willoughby and Vincent were the only ones who didn’t have an adult there ready to make up their minds for them. Fiona scratched a note to her: This proves what I’ve always suspected: Vincent doesn’t have parents. He’s an adult living in a kid’s body.

  Any other time that would have been funny. Right now, nothing was funny.

  Miss Imes turned to the kids. “Before you all go completely into shock,” she said, “let me explain that I invited your parents here because there has been some question about the content of your new film project.”

  Guess who asked the question, Sophie thought. So far she hadn’t been able to look at her father. She was afraid she would roll her eyes up into her head and never find them again.

  “Rather than simply put the kibosh on the entire project,” Miss Imes was saying, “I thought it would be more of a learning experience if we all had a voice in setting the limits on the language and violence in the movie. How does that sound to everyone?”

  “It sounds like you’re going to end up telling us what we can and can’t do anyway, so why waste the time?” Fiona said.

  Nathan’s face turned crimson. So did his mother’s. Boppa drew his black, caterpillar eyebrows together the way he always did when Fiona had just embarrassed him to death.

  Miss Imes’ eyebrows, on the other hand, were stabbing at her hairline. “That is not my intention at all,” she said. “In fact, I would like to hear from you students first. Perhaps there is less for your parents to be concerned about than they think. Who would like to start?”

  They all looked at Sophie. I hope I remember to thank them later for putting th
is whole thing on me, Sophie thought. This definitely didn’t qualify as “the cat’s pajamas.” Her mind raced, and she was sure she wouldn’t squeak out a single thing that made sense—until somebody else stepped in …

  With her fedora dipped over one eye, Goodsy said, “All right, here’s the thing.” She hoped her voice was coming out low and rough, because this was no time to have her true identity revealed, not with the entire city council sitting before her. “This is the real world we’re living in. We can’t pussyfoot around the facts no more, see? There’s killing in the streets. There’s deals being made behind closed doors that are filling our city with booze and drugs, see? And innocent people are being robbed of their life savings, all in broad daylight. There ain’t no way to paint a pretty picture of that. It’s real, and we can’t deny it, see? It’s as plain as the rings on Al Capone’s fingers.”

  “That certainly gives us a sense of the film’s flavor,” Miss Imes said dryly.

  Sophie glanced at Daddy. He had his don’t-think-I-don’tknow-what-just-happened look on his face.

  “I get all that,” Aunt Emily said. Her silky Southern accent was a little ruffled. “But how real does it have to be?”

  “How real do you think it should be?” Miss Imes said.

  Beside Sophie, Fiona stiffened, and Sophie squeezed her wrist so she wouldn’t fly out of the seat. But she felt like bursting out with something herself. Something like: you might as well just let them write the whole thing for us if you’re going to do this.

  “No cusswords,” Nathan’s mother said.

  Boppa nodded. “Only as much physical stuff as it takes to suggest violence.”

  “No actual bloodshed on camera,” Daddy put in.

  The adults all laughed. Sophie didn’t see what was funny. “I’d like to see more of the problems being solved than see the problems themselves,” Jimmy’s father said. “Fewer shooting scenes and more discussion of how to fix the situation.”

  Sophie held on to Fiona with two hands.